


Behind The Wheel

by Hambone



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Banter, Dark Energon, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Mentions of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 17:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3617418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambone/pseuds/Hambone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starscream visits his lord after a botched mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind The Wheel

**Author's Note:**

> Commission for anon on my tumblr! Enjoy!

The damage was not irreparable, but it was bad. Staring dourly at the smashed turrets by the communications array, Starscream tapped his heel in a quick off-beat rhythm that did nothing but express his nervous energy as the Vehicons worked slowly to remedy the damage. Damned Autobots, always meddling. Always smashing things. He couldn’t wait to slowly sink his claws through another one’s chest and into their spark chamber, just as he had done with Cliffjumper. His digits clicked along his thighs as if in sympathy of the idea and the Vehicon closest to him moved away subtly, intimidated by his mood.

As he should have been. Starscream was a force to be reckoned with, he told himself, always willing to show these ignoramuses what they deserved for being such lazy little clones. When he returned, his master would not be pleased.

It was not that Megatron had left anywhere, to be specific, but he was so often taken with his dark energon dreams that it seemed he had. His optics grew wide and dark, and his chest rose and fell in slow, dangerous breaths, as if he were dying. Perhaps he was – Starscream had never endorsed the usage of the material, not without proper study, even if, in moments of desperation, he had attempted it on himself. His intellect came better when emotion was not involved, but he was, above all things, a creature of passions.

Stalking down into the bridge, he avoided Soundwave’s blank distaste and went straight for the lower decks, intent on seeing if Megatron was indeed beginning to come up from his latest trance. He didn’t like the depth in his lord at those times but it was often better to bring himself to good terms with the tyrant before he was in his more lucid state of upset. The material made him rough but there was a bestial tenderness in it as well, when they were not in battle. His spark was infected with crystal that was not his own, but he was aware of a deepness in the universe that, while nothing Starscream really cared to understand, seemed to make him awed at their closeness, the connection within all things.

It made Starscream laugh in private. How silly to assume there was meaning in something as small as touch. Theirs was a world governed by, indeed, _created_ through power and that was it, as far as he was concerned. The dark energon was scrambling his circuits well and good if he really thought there was something more to it.

The lower decks were always dark, darker than the rest of the ship at least. The lights were shut off in most sectors to save power, since energon was hard to find and fuel consuming to mine, but down here it was a purposeful blackness, mood lighting. Starscream hated it; there was no way to make his plating really shine in the dark, and it made it hard to navigate well. At times he was more nervous about tripping over his own heels than what he was actually doing. He had complained loudly to Soundwave multiple times that it was a safety hazard, but the brute had, as always, ignored him.

Megatron was where he expected, basking in the purple glow of his rock. Starscream sneered at the thing privately before opening the door and entering. Sitting upright in a meditative position, Megatron’s chin was low on his chest, ventilations even, and for a moment Starscream thought he had fallen into recharge while Unicron spoke to him. Then he rumbled, a lovely sound that made Starscream’s EM field skitter, and turned to appraise him.

“Have they fixed the guns yet?”

“Not yet, me liege,” Starscream bowed handsomely, for once not gritting his dental grill over the formality, “but it is being done. As per usual the _scrubs_ are taking their sweet time.”

Megatron nodded slowly, a small curl in his lip telling Starscream he was aware enough to find humor in it. That was a good sign. He made his way further into the room, avoiding the purple shadow of the dark energon subtly. How sick its light made him. Megatron watched him, chuckling a bit.

“So scared of liquid power? How unlike you.”

He shifted to the side on his bench.

“Sit.”

Starscream did, but not before rolling his optics dramatically.

“I don’t avoid the stuff due to fear, my lord; I simply know how to recognize poison when I see it.”

He crossed his legs and arms and pouted, even as he leaned back against the wall in a relaxed pose mirroring his master’s. Megatron sighed deeply, clearly neither here nor there about his obvious resentment. Better the rock than him.

“And so,” said Megatron, voice a soft clap of thunder, “here we are.”

“My lord?”

Megatron chuckled, wry and quiet. His optics were still offline as he lay back, but Starscream could tell he was being watched nonetheless. Not minding as much as he could have, he smiled.

“Are we witnessing the return of your poetic spirit? Perhaps that will banish the Autobots.”

“You know, if you had ever put your sharp tongue into something more constructive you could have been a great poet.”

“And waste all my talent?” Starscream waved his hands as if to shoo the idea away, “No. Never.”

“Truly. It would be a shame to disrupt the natural order, and cruelty is nothing if not your nature.”

He sounded genuinely pleasant. Starscream would have laughed but something about his sincerity gave him pause. Perhaps it was the dark energon, perhaps it was just the lull of time between battle and battle, but he found himself drawn in by the kind tone. A weakness at any other time, but he allowed it this once.

As if it were the first time.

“A compliment from you, my Lord? I must treasure the moment.”

In this case the humor was accepted. Megatron glanced at him and he smiled wanly, the expression coming off strange of his slanted face but getting the message through.

“Hence why I should never compliment you in this first place,” Megatron growled pleasantly, “you treasure the moments far beyond their prime.”

Starscream slid forward until his arm could gently linger on Megatron’s shoulder, non-invasive but indicating that further contact was impending.

“It is in my nature,” he said, helm coming close to push against Megatron’s, “and nature makes no mistakes.”

“Debatable,” said Megatron, and he leaned in for a kiss.

Starscream fluttered away from him for a nano-klik, just long enough so as to make the moment their lips connected his own victory. Megatron did not taste like dark energon or anger or rust but like battle nonetheless, a warm, homey feeling for Starscream. As he pushed closer into his master’s slow embrace, he forgot the failures of their mission and subordinates, his distaste for the rock, and let the moment be.


End file.
